Category Archives: Life Stuff

The husband just upgraded his speakers. Which I am insanely jealous of, though I proceeded to waste exactly no time in putting the empty speaker boxes on my appendages and roboting around the house. (Present for him, present for me.)

(I don’t know what he thought was going to happen when he handed the empty boxes to me — what was I going to do, put them straight in the recycling like a grown-up? PFFFFT! What did we, just meet?)

The speaker boxes reminded me of one of the greatest childhood memories ever, and that is the memory of the empty refrigerator box. Explaining it to the hubby only drew a blank look (okay, a blank look and a smile), but I can’t be the only one who did this.

The Greatest Toy Ever you could have as a kid was the giant empty cardboard box from a new fridge. When I was a kid, I guess a lot of people on our street had to replace their fridges. Because empty refrigerator boxes were pretty plentiful in my corner of suburbia. A neighbour would put an empty box at the end of the curb, and you would RUN to get it and put it in the backyard.

Because.

With an empty fridge box, what you do is this:
1. Put the box on its side, lengthwise, on the ground.
2. Crawl in the box to the very end.
3. Heave your body against the sky-facing side of the box.
4. The box will tip a little skyward.
5. Repeat.
6. Repeat.
7. Repeat until the box suddenly hits the “tipping point” (LITERALLY! ZOMG!) and rights itself on its end.
8. You are now sitting at the bottom of a tall box, looking up at the clouds.
9. Magic.

I would spend hours in those boxes. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep in one more than once. I have a vague memory of trying to negotiate bringing a blanket and pillow out to spend the night out there. Bottom of a box, tunnel to a square of sky. Peace.

Goddamn I wish I had a refrigerator box right now.

Preface: The husband is having difficulties feeding himself today. This morning started with him texting me re: the current location of the last scone, which he couldn’t find. I was, at the time, about a kilometre away, so it is interesting that he thought I’d somehow be able to save him in this search.

Me: *Watching Brian Cox talk about the Large Hadron Collider.*
Him: *Suddenly appears dead centre of my office doorway.*
[Standoff]
Me: “Yes honey?”
[No response]
Me: “Quickly baby, I’m watching science here. There is science happening and I’m missing it. It’s science hour and I’m learning about science. Talk fast.
Him: “I WANT MY LUNCH!” *bangs sides of doorjam* *jumps up and down*
Him: *I-just-did-something-bad-face*
Me: “I see.”
Him: “LUNCH!”
Me: “And what would you like for lunch?”
Him: “I don’t know. But I’ll tell you what I don’t want, I don’t want duck and green pea.”
(This is a reference to the cat’s current tin of food. As she has been a bit of a fuzzy little bitchface about her meal options lately.)
Me: “Yes dear.”
Him: *lies down in hallway outside my door*
Him: “I’ve seen this work for kitty.”

Resolution: We decided to go out for sandwiches. (Kitty stayed home. Last seen staring dejectedly at her duck and green pea breakfast).

FIN.

Part of the beauty of working at home is that random weird crap can be spliced into your day.

But if your husband is also back to working at home, that random weird crap may suddenly be “observed” in a way that you have grown unaccustomed to. (From the proverb: If you don’t wear your pants in a forest, does anyone see?)

If you have been with your husband for 11 years, his knowledge of you can also border on “eerie”.

See this morning:
When I was looking at the bathroom door: “Don’t do a pull-up on that door frame.”
When my chair spun around and I almost put my foot through my laptop: “Is everything alright in there?” (how did he know?)

I’d start working in cafes more often, but they don’t let me do pull-ups on the door frames either.